The mercenary
by Ironstar
Summary: The companion to the mage Baraccus from A prelude. A female mercenary fighting for her identity and some respect.


The light glistened off her chest.

It reflected from the cold blue steel of her breastplate with the same glare that drifted from beneath her soft red bangs. The facade that she had to maintain was a pleasure, and a burden. She enjoyed it; the dance she played was fun. The burden was that she _had_ to. Woman didn't exist in her line of work; not any with her level of skill, at least.

Jaquet removed her gauntlet with a silken grace that she added to most of her movements when she was in public.

Once again, she had to knock down someone's ego. It was sad that so many people needed to step up and test themselves with her. Why did everyone need to try to best her? Was her reputation and status so important to them that they needed to personally try and knock it down?

She knew why. She was a tool. People used her. In her profession and in most other aspects of her life. The other regulars of the pub coaxed the man into it. They knew what would happen to the newcomer; it had happened to most of them.

Leaning forward, more than was necessary, Jaquet slipped her elbow to the middle of the table. The laughing patron was trying to keep his eyes from her chest, but it wasn't working. He took her hand, trying to squeeze as hard as he could to intimidate her.

He failed.

She took a deep breath, pushing her chest up as much as she could without falling out of her breastplate. The tactic worked as it always did, and the man's grip loosened in her hand.

"You ready?" she said with a smirk as a few more strands of hair fell to outline her soft cheeks.

The man laughed out loud. "Are _you_ ready, sweet lips?" he laughed again.

This time, _she_ squeezed _his_ hand, and a wonderful look of disbelief washed over his face. Now a full smile, teeth and all, crept onto her face. The man jerked his arm, attempting to catch her off guard and win the match, but she knew he would and was ready.

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked with as much condescension as she could muster. "Didn't have your mommy fix you your oatmeal this morning? You feel like you're a little fatigued."

His hand was working its way backwards, down toward the tabletop. Through gritted teeth, he mumbled something that she couldn't hear.

"I'm sorry, dear. I didn't catch that."

Letting his hand hover an inch or two above the table...wanting to play a little longer before beating him.

"I said shut your mouth, _whore_," he replied, still through gritted teeth and still attempting to come back from his imminent defeat.

Jaquet's playful smile melted away, and her soft, come-hither eyes turned cold. She slammed his hand down on the table then flipped it up toward him. It toppled onto him, pinning him to the ground.

_"FIIIIIGHT!"_ she screamed, and leaped over the up-turned table.

She didn't need to yell, but she wanted to make sure everyone was watching. It was a hassle to have to beat up _everyone_ all the time. If she could just set a few examples, she figured the rest would learn.

They usually didn't.

Her armor-plated body slammed onto the startled man, making him heave and groan under the weight. Taking his hair with her, unarmored, hand, she pulled his face up close to hers.

"I'm sorry, dear. Your mother should have taught you to treat ladies with respect. Looks like_ I'll_ have to."

Her sweet, soft breath and plump, wet lips so close to his made him smile despite his situation. She let his head fall to the ground with a thud and leaned back. With her armored hand she let a punch fly, but with only enough force to prove her point. A full swing this close with an armored hand would probably kill the man. She didn't need that kind of drama.

The clash of steel hitting bone was as sweet a sound as ever, and the blood that shot from his mouth and nose erupted onto the floor. Since he didn't moan or scream, she knew that he was out cold.

"Pansy," she remarked. The crowd that had formed roared in laughter, and began making their way back to their business. A hand softly rested on the back of her head. Thin, nimble fingers ran down her hair, stopping between her shoulder blades.

"Couldn't help it, could you? Couldn't, just one time, beat him and let your reputation speak for itself?" the man asked in a honey-laced, calm tone.

"You know me better then that, Bara," she replied, as she held up her hand so he could help her up.

He took the hand, pulled her up and scoffed. "I sure do. Just one time, though, I would like to see you not have to prove it. Violence isn't always the answer."

"Sure it is," she said matter-of-factly. Stepping over the man, making sure to kick him a bit, Jaquet grabbed her gauntlet from the floor and put it back on.

The man followed and sighed. "Someday I'll marry you and make you settle down," he said almost threateningly.

"Oh, I know, hun, but until then this is the way it is," she replied. They both smiled at the long-running joke of their un-blossomed romance.

Baraccus used the man as a stepping stone as he passed, making his way to the door.

"So to what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked in a more business-like tone as she took her sword and shield from the holding area of the pub. Her companion opened the door and gestured for her to step through. She nodded in thanks and stepped onto the cobblestone streets of Stormwind. "Need some answers from someone? Want to send a message in Jaquet fashion to someone that looked at'cha wrong?"

"I wish it were that easy," he said as he slid his hands into the sleeves of his thick silken robe monk-like. He took a breath and continued. "A friend of mine has embarked on a mission. I am pulling some resources, and if possible, I would like some muscle."

Jaquet slipped her shield on her back, pulling a strap around her left shoulder and across her breasts onto the other end by her right hip . "Well, lucky for you I've got some of that. So why the serious tone? Sounds simple to me. Bash some heads, cut a few men down. Same old, same old."

"That is why I hire you so often. Never turn down a challenge. We can hope it ends up being that easy," he said as he placed his hand on her lower back, turning her a little and gestured forward. "Let's go to my room so I can pay you in advance this time. So that you will have enough to get whatever you need."

Jaquet placed her hand on her chest delicately. "Mister Collamore, I do say. While a bit rash, I am flattered at the invitation to your room," she said with the best innocent voice she had.

Mister Collamore grinned and rolled his eyes and they walked off into the night, both feeling the comfort of the other's company.


End file.
